A Knight, but not by choice
by Tarkus the Jaguar
Summary: There's only one way you find out you can't die. It was never pleasant. Nor was the fact that some otherworldly force was dragging her back to the nightmarish world that had killed her. (Very light gore warning)
1. Tutorial 01

**Just a thing I've been working on to try to get back into the swing of writing. Any criticism or advice is welcome.**

* * *

Taylor was going to die alone.

Okay. Maybe that was overreacting just a tiny bit, but she was currently panicking, and rational thought didn't usually mix with panicking. Considering she's just woken up in the middle of a massive forest, she felt a bit of panic was justified. If she'd been on a camping trip of some kind that would be fine, but as far as she remembered she was supposed to be in her _house_.

The forest itself was entirely barren of all life. No bugs, or birds, nor even a gust of wind. The entire area was still, Only her, and the motionless trees. It was utterly silent, something a lot more frightening than most people realized. The body was constantly surrounded by minuscule, insignificant sounds that didn't register to the conscious mind, which served to repeatedly assure your mind that your sense of hearing was still working.

But all her body could hear was her own, panicked breathing, and slightly erratic heartbeat; so, it had amplified those as much as it could, trying to get sound working again.

Her own deafening heartbeat wasn't the most comforting of sounds.

Taylor looked around her a bit, to try to calm herself down. She was in a clearing in the forest. A clearing so perfectly circular, and surrounded by such uniform trees that there was no way it could ever occur naturally. On top of that, with no other forms of life, that theoretical forest would quickly die.

There was a fine mist hanging over the area, limiting her visibility to only a few metres in any given direction. Just enough to see that all the trees were perfectly spaced, and to know just how easily she would get lost should she wander into them. There were no landmarks, either.

Walking into those woods would be suicide.

That was the true reason of Taylor's panic.

She calmed down, just a bit, when she was salvation in the form of a perfectly straight dirt road behind her. Where it led to was a mystery, as a sheer wall of fog hung in front of it, but she lacked any better options.

She couldn't just wait around and hope for the best.

With a shuddering breath and a desperate hope, Taylor began to make her way down the path.

As she walked, a spark of hope began to kindle in her heart. She was moving at a good pace… and if there was a road, that meant there were other people. She could get out of her situation alive.

After the first ten minutes, she had begun to tire, and had lost some of her fervor. The path hadn't visibly changed; she felt if she turned around she would be faced with the same clearing from which she had come, despite how far she'd been walking.

After the first hour, she had begun to grow nervous, and her legs were beginning to get quite sore; the only silver lining being the mist kept her cool enough that she barely sweated.

By the end of the third hour, she was walking on autopilot, trying to avoid thinking about the dull ache in her bones, and how little she had achieved. Her throat was crying out in thirst, and she was starting to feel rather hungry.

Halfway through the fourth hour, she collapsed onto the path.

How she rose again was beyond her. The ache was everywhere in her body, an agony she hadn't thought possible, and even standing made her legs shake.

Another two hours and she had lost all track of both time and distance, though she felt certain the sun should've set by then. She had begun to sing songs to herself as she went.

By the end of the eleventh hour, her legs were on the brink of collapse, and it was only by sheer will that she was still going. Her songs had faded to an indecipherable, unrecognizable, and yet very distinctive amalgamation that she hummed to herself on loop. A simple tune, a repeat of a mere thirty-two beats, with no lyrics. It was a tune she herself wasn't aware she was humming. She wasn't aware of much at all, by that stage, and felt it wouldn't be long before her body gave out on her entirely. She was starving, her throat was aching with thirst, and she was barely lucid.

On the twelfth hour, her knee buckled, and she sat there for some time. She didn't even notice she had fallen, for a long while. The agony in her legs had fallen out of her awareness, as had her crippling thirst and hunger. Her vision was almost entirely gone. And yet, the path before her remained identical to the path she had traversed until that point.

She was dying, that she knew. If she stayed down, she would die...

But then she had a thought. That she might be close to… whatever it was she was moving towards. Whatever goal she held. And that if she were to fail right at the end, how embarrassing that would be.

It was a silly thought, but spite was a powerful motivator. Just powerful enough for her to keep edging forwards, barely putting one foot in front of the other.

Then her pace began to quicken, despite her legs' agonised cries at the abuse they had been put through. Her hobble turned into a walk.

Her humming began louder, and she began to appreciate the simple tune, even though she was no longer aware of its source.

Her walk turned into a stride.

Her delirious mind cast aside all distractions, all sensations, and focused solely on moving forwards.

Her stride turned into a jog.

As she neared the brink of death, the pathway before her finally changed. To what, she couldn't tell. Her eyes were barely open, the mist was still there, and the haze of her mind could only register that she had almost made it.

Her jog turned into a sprint.

At the start of the twenty fourth hour, she finally broke free of the forest, and the pathway she had been traversing.

All she could see was a faint spark of green light in front of her.

Her sprint turned into a fall.

She must have experienced an impact, but she didn't feel it in the slightest. She didn't even feel her body begin to burn as the green light began to cover her.

Her fall turned into faint, and she lost consciousness entirely.

* * *

Waking up was unexpected. Especially waking up lucid enough to know that she should've died.

Taylor forced those memories aside, and tried to focus on the sense of warmth rolling around her body. Whatever it was, it was comforting… she felt she could lay in it for hours on end, and just rest. But something inside of her was also telling her that doing so was dangerous; that if she fell asleep again she might not wake up. That there was something behind her, something _dangerous_ , and that she needed to MOVE!

A hand touched her shoulder, and Taylor's eyes shot open. She spun around, and wildly flailed at whatever _thing_ was making contact.

There was a sharp jolt of pain as a few of her fingers hit solid metal. A loud crunch, too. Had… she just broken her hand?

Her attention was completely stolen by the figure in front of her

Or… rather, the lack of a figure – it was just a floating gauntlet, attached to an arm's worth of full plate armour and her shoulder. And absolutely nothing else.

Taylor screamed.

The hand jolted back, reeling as if caught off guard, and waving frantically in the air as if to say it meant no harm. As it did so, whatever was causing it to float had apparently decided to stop doing that, because the gauntlet fell to the ground with a clatter, and Taylor crawled back a step. She felt something burn her back, and flinched forwards, shooting a glance behind her.

Apparently, the source of both her current burn and the easy, safe feeling was a green torch imbedded in the ground.

Between the moment her eyes had flickered towards the torch and flickered back, the gauntlet had risen back up and lunged at her face. It had stopped about a centimetre in front of her eyes, and was hanging there as if by some invisible force. Taylor didn't dare to even blink.

After an agonising moment, it fell back to the ground. Another moment later, it collapsed into a black dust, which quickly dissipated across the ground.

Taylor's breathing became laboured, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to calm down.

Where the gauntlet had fallen was a piece of paper. Whether it had originated from the gauntlet's dissolving or had been there the whole time, she didn't know. She decided to distract herself from the shock by reading what it said, even as the comforting warmth emanating from the torch began to force her body calm.

She tried to reach for it, but her left arm wasn't working. When she looked to try to see what was wrong, she found that it had been removed entirely. Painlessly, and without her being aware. The only thing left of it was a hand shaped indent on her shoulder, where the gauntlet had been touching, and it was radiating pain throughout her body.

No guesses as to what had caused that, then.

Taylor took a shuddering breath and tore her eyes away from where her arm had once been, instead reaching down with her right to pick up the piece of paper.

Another, similar burn of pain radiated from her hand, from where _she_ had touched _it_. Three of her fingers were missing. Taylor stoutly ignored that, doing her best to read whatever the paper held.

 _"The king sends out his summons, and his call shall be enforced by Lady Irene, Chief Magistrate of Blackridge. Answer the summons, or face a horrible fate. The nightmare must be driven back, and any knights too cowardly to stand in combat shall find their days dwindling."_

Taylor felt a chill run up her spine as she finished reading. A sudden weight began pulling at one of her pockets – pockets that she didn't have. The last thing she remembered wearing had been a t-shirt and jeans. As she looked down at her current attire she knew instantly that she didn't own a jacket as fancy as the one she was wearing.

She was certain she wouldn't even have been able to afford it; whatever the material the jacket was made of, it was one she'd never even felt before, and one that was certainly expensive given how amazing it looked, how comfortable it felt, and how perfectly it accentuated her figure…

Seriously, the jacket had to be blessed with some miraculous power, because it made her look distinctly feminine despite her non-existent figure, authoritative despite her slouch and the fact she was sitting down, and slightly intimidating despite her lack of any real muscle or weapons, scrawny, frog like body, and missing arm.

If anything, she was more upset that the jacket had lost a sleeve when her arm had been taken than she was about the arm; the jacket felt like it belonged to someone important. Something she should never have been allowed to touch, even though it perfectly fit her.

How or why was another question altogether. Especially since there was no way Taylor would ever feel confident enough to willingly wear it around it public; it certainly wasn't something that would blend in.

In fact, it would be indistinguishable, considering it looked a lot less like a jacket and a lot more like something a distinguished military veteran might wear.

A distinguished military veteran from the middle ages, that was, because there was no way something like what she was wearing could ever be made in the modern day, it was too sharply different from everything she'd ever seen anyone wear. The thing it closest resembled were the costumes she'd seen for crappy cape action movies.

The reason she was so sure of the period was because the jacket pulled off something no piece of fabric so thin should ever be able to do; look like a realistic, practical and sturdy piece of ornate armour. She idly touched the seams to confirm to herself that no, the jacket wasn't made of metal. It was cloth.

And that was why she was so certain she'd never be confident enough to wear it; people would certainly confuse her for a cape. Even ignoring the possibility of being attacked or arrested, that would draw way too much attention for her tastes.

She turned her attention back to the weight in her pocket.

Taylor fished around in her right pocket until she came across the item she had felt residing there.

A single envelope, with a golden seal.

 _"General summons:_

 _To all knights of the realm do I impose this task of utmost importance; purge our realm from this nightmare, lest everything we have be consumed by it. All of those who have taken their oaths in my name shall seek to end this nightmare, or their oaths will be considered broken, and the law shall treat thee as a traitor and deserter. Such a threat to the citizens of Blackridge cannot be allowed to exist._

 _All of you who are bound by oath shall receive a copy of this letter, by whatever devices our magicians have conjured up. Should you choose to ignore your task, they will have free range to test whatever else they have created upon you until you have achieved what you must all set out to do._

 _To the most competent or powerful, I shall leave other tasks, which should be placed above all else. Should you be assigned one of these missions, it shall be encompassed below with a personal address._

 _Caroline of Ascor, scribe of the king_

 _King Arwin"_

Taylor tried for a moment to comprehend what was written… or more specifically, who might have written it.

At that stage, she was almost certain she was in a different reality; there were no knights or kings in Earth Bet, and while a cape might be able to make some weird floating gauntlet monster that dissolved everything it touched, it would be entirely unprovoked and unreasonable for them to send it after her.

Then there was the seemingly infinite forest… either she was imprisoned in a world made by a shaker, she was insane, or she was in an alternate reality. Thinking she was insane wouldn't help, and once again, she was no reason for a cape to so… personally attack her.

Taylor quickly skimmed the letter once again, trying to catch anything she might've missed, before moving on the short paragraph attached below. A paragraph which was concerningly addressed to _her_.

 _"To Huntress, I entrust the task of finding and ending the source of this nightmare. Your skillset would be wasted merely cleaning up the symptoms rather than searching for the problem. However, if you encounter any of the beasts this nightmare has created, it is up to you as to if you step in; I trust your judgement, though I pray you shan't waste too much time._

 _As they shed blood, the beasts are growing stronger, more adaptable. So far, the royal guard has been able to deal with the strongest beasts that arose, but eventually they shall be overcome, even with the knights of the realm ready to aid them. Their numbers are endless, while the knights are a dwindling resource. The only option is to stall for time._

 _Enclosed is a formal pardon, which is already signed and needs only the royal stamp to be officiated; a stamp which shall be granted should you succeed in this task. I hope that you will see this generosity as exactly that, and remember why it is you fight._

 _I wish you the best of luck, Taylor Hebert._

 _King Arwin_

 _P.S, there have been rumours the plague originated in Eusvoir, a small town to the east. The similarities between the monstrosities the plague created and those formed from the nightmare are enough to validate a search. Hopefully, that will serve as a starting point for your hunt."_

Taylor read the letter again, from start to finish, just to be sure.

It was, indeed, addressed to her. And apparently, she was someone quite important.

That couldn't be right. She hadn't even graduated high-school, she had absolutely no friends, and the biggest accomplishment of her life up to that stage had been killing her mother by distracting her while she was driving.

Perhaps the letter was talking about this universe's version of her. Taylor had heard a few stories of that, from what little they'd been able to communicate with Earth Aleph. For example, the notorious mass murderer King, one of the founders of the Slaughterhouse Nine, had been an accountant who died in his sleep of an unexpected heart attack at age fifty-six. Likewise, all the politicians she'd heard of from Aleph were unfamiliar names. Even their presidents were completely different, barring the first few who had been elected after capes had been discovered.

But that still wouldn't explain why she was physically holding the letter addressed to a different, important version of her.

Maybe it was just someone with the same name.

Taylor had a sinking suspicious that whoever had sent the letter wouldn't be convinced of that, and that the 'free range tests' included whatever gauntlet monster had cut off her _fucking arm_. Clearly, these people were serious business about people not doing what they'd been told to do; and to them, it probably looked like she was skirting her duty.

Well… not _her_ duty. There was no way anyone would ever entrust her to deal with the source of something that, from the sounds of it, was causing a minor apocalypse.

But something on the edge of her senses was telling her that she still wasn't safe, and that more _things_ were after her. Hopefully, if she started trying… and failing to do what they wanted her to do, those things would leave her alone.

Taylor's eyes snapped open. She hadn't remembered closing them. They didn't open with resolve or determination, she was still entirely unsure of what was happening or what she was doing, and her only real goal was to find a way home.

No, her eyes opened because there had been another surge of comfort from the torch behind her, and she had felt her arm begin to twitch.

Her left arm. The one that had been removed.

But sure enough, when she looked down at it, there it was; good as new. The jacket had regenerated too.

Taylor gazed at the torch behind her. It didn't make sense, but she was internally certain that the torch was responsible for the return of her limb. And as the warm, comforting glow began to slowly fade, and her surroundings slipped more and more into view, Taylor was also certain that the torch had been healing her in more ways than just that.

She briefly remembered her day long, delirious walk through the woods that had somehow failed to kill her, and how not cripplingly tired her legs felt.

It seemed she had been very lucky indeed. Through whatever means she had gotten to where she was, whatever had decided to dump her into an alternate reality in the place of someone more competent, leaving her with nothing but two bits of paper and a kickass coat, it had given her a magical torch capable of healing all of her wounds.

Perhaps… just maybe, she would be able to get home. She didn't know what had gotten her there, but there had to be a way back.

Until then, all she had in terms of ideas was to try to safely fulfil the duty of the person who shared her name.

The moment she resolved to do so, she felt the agonising sense of danger that had hung on her periphery back off, just a bit, as if it were going to wait and watch.

As it did so, Taylor became frighteningly aware that the sense wasn't just a figment of her imagination when the mist hanging over the area cleared entirely, leaving her blinking in the sun, with the torch she had sat beside nowhere in sight.

* * *

When she'd heard that apparently, there was a king, and a lot of knights, she'd assumed the reality she'd appeared in would be a classic medieval world, with swords and duels and a lot less thatched rooves than people thought there were. Sure, the only bit of information she had about the world talked about both a horrific plague and a nightmare creating beasts, but she'd just assumed that was respectively the black death and parahumans.

She'd been wrong. Maybe there were still parahumans. But for now, she could say comfortably that whatever 'plague' they were suffering from wasn't a physical illness, or at least, not JUST physical.

Wherever she'd arrived had been destroyed. It was no longer liveable. She'd come to that conclusion within a few seconds of looking around; there was no way to salvage this place. Some of the buildings were missing entire walls, and had collapsed in on themselves. Others were on fire. She saw one in the distance where it looked like the inhabitants… the inhuman inhabitants, had clawed their way out.

They hadn't made it far though. They were close enough that she could safely identify what was responsible, laying with one leg still partway through the hole they had torn. She was also incredibly thankful that they… or it, was dead.

It looked like someone had taken a minotaur and a werewolf, and then wildly slashed the parts together… but left the face human. They hadn't bothered to ensure the parts were all on the same scale, either. Some of them dwarfed the others. It was horribly asymmetrical. It had also bled to death, judging by the pool surrounding it… coating its face.

When Taylor had seen it, she'd been sick. Violently. Just when she'd thought it was getting a bit better, the smell had hit her and she'd been sick again.

Thankfully, the rest of the place's… residents, had been hidden from her immediate view by the collapsed buildings, with the exception a charred corpse from one of the smouldering buildings. Thankfully, she hadn't thrown up when taking in the visage of the snake-human-charcoal amalgamation. Although that was probably because she had nothing left to get out of her stomach.

Taylor tried to distract herself by focusing on her surroundings – the parts that didn't include monstrosities.

The area around her looked like it could once have been a market of some kind. It was quite an open area, and none of the buildings looked like they'd been houses. The area was certainly wide enough – and she was very thankful for how wide it was, otherwise the collapsed buildings likely would've trapped her completely. As it was, there were only three pathways she could see which weren't completely blocked, and one of them appeared to be a dead end anyway.

It was also the pathway which contained the charred body she'd seen earlier. She mentally decided to not go down there, even though it looked like it might lead somewhere. There were two other perfectly good routes she could take, which were far wider and less littered with debris, neither of which had a corpse. Unless they were both somehow dead ends, they would be the ones she stuck to.

If they smelled as bad as they did from as far away as they were… she wasn't going to go anywhere near there.

There was, technically, a fourth route, but since it was the hole the other corpse had torn through, she was discounting that. Unless that particular building had the universe's sickest underground tunnel system, that wouldn't help her get out of… wherever she was, at all. Hopefully, if she wandered far enough she'd encounter either an area with breathable air, rather than the thick, horridly tasting air that was present, or someone to explain what in the hell had happened and where she was.

It's not like there were any sign posts, or anything. Perhaps there might have been – but everything that wasn't straight up destroyed was covering in what looked like a dark purple fungus. The fungus was _throbbing_ , as if it had a heartbeat.

Thankfully, there wasn't much of the fungus because most of everything was either too heavily damaged for her to clearly tell either way, or straight up in ruins. She had no idea what it was, but she also had no desire to touch it, and that meant she would have to tread carefully. Just in case.

Considering the state everything around her was in, she thought that was a reasonable precaution.

Taylor hesitantly began making her way down the furthest left path, which had less of the fungus than the others, on top of being significantly wider.

It being comparatively wider, however, didn't stop it from being a narrow hallway, and multiple times she felt herself brush again something that felt very much alive. She forced that out of her mind, placing it in the same imaginary bin she'd placed all of the traumatic things that had happened to her in the last few days, steadfastly ignoring it and pressing on as best she could, hoping salvation lay around the corner.

And in a way, it did, because the corridor she'd been in… lead to another corridor, which in turn lead to a small plaza, that was in significantly better shape than anything she'd seen up until that point. There was even… she'd say… nine tenths of a water fountain. What happened to the other tenth was unclear.

Taylor took a moment to better examine the make of the fountain, hoping to get at least some idea of the equivalent period of time in her world. It wasn't helpful at all. Whether that was because of her lack of architectural knowledge, or because Earth Bet didn't _have_ an equivalent period, she wasn't sure.

There was a faint scuff on the cobbled road behind her, and Taylor spun to face it frantically. When she couldn't tell what had made the noise, she calmed down just a touch. It had probably been just the wind. After all, the only thing that appeared to be organic in the direction of the noise were a few pieces of the fungus and… what looked like an immolated torso, arms, and head.

Taylor clutched her mouth and tried her hardest to ignore how the pink almost-skeleton with eye holes but _distinctly_ no eyes also had no lower body.

After a few moments of trying to steady herself, Taylor gently removed her hand from over her mouth, and slowly began making her way towards the torso.

She wasn't fully sure why. Every step made her feel sicker and sicker.

Eventually, she was within half a metre of the corpse, and was barely containing her brain's visceral reaction to the body.

She gentle nudged the body with her foot, just to assure her that yes, it was really there, and yes, it was really dead.

With a screech that would give her nightmares and a sudden jolt of movement, the torso grabbed her foot and yanked her down with inhuman strength.

Less than a second later, as the hands began to claw viciously at her chest, Taylor began to scream and flail.

* * *

For a few moments, the claws hit nothing but her jacket; but whatever armour it held quickly crumpled, and she began to feel the claws digging into her.

As her chest was torn to shreds, and the monster brought its mouth… it's hollow, empty mouth to hover over her exposed organs. The creature took a bite… and Taylor felt her body die.

Right before she woke up in an unfamiliar place, kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs.


	2. Tutorial 02

Taylor sat silently on her bed in the psychiatric ward. Apparently, having a complete mental breakdown made people wonder if you were mentally stable. Taylor honestly couldn't argue, though, because she remembered very little between waking up and being in the room she'd found herself in.

Taylor lay her hand on her chest. Much to her relief, it was still intact, as it had been when she'd woken up.

Per her memories, it shouldn't have been.

Perhaps she had gone crazy, and the horrific place she'd seen had been nothing more than a nightmare conjured by her mind in the aftermath of the locker.

… She didn't think so, but it was a possibility.

In the same manner, the constantly increasing sense of danger she felt around her could be nothing more than her imagination. And perhaps the symbol that had been carved into her flesh; a symbol no one else could see, of a burning torch surrounded by fog, could be equally imaginary.

Something only she could see? Practically the definition of a hallucination.

Perhaps if it hadn't hurt so much when she'd touched it, she would believe that. Instead, she could feel the mark trying to drag her back, just gently enough she was sure that she'd be able to resist… up until she couldn't. Because while it was nowhere near as prevalent as the overwhelming sense of danger she felt, both were growing at a steady rate.

When she'd first woken up, the mark's drag had been so small she hadn't noticed it. But if it kept growing, she might be forced to return to that – nightmare.

And then there was the sense of danger. Another thing which could just be her going crazy. If she hadn't remembered the note she'd found in her jacket's pocket, a jacket she was somehow still wearing, that no one else seemed to bat an eyelid at. The note had explicitly said things would hunt her if she didn't perform her 'duty', and the sense of danger was growing… almost as if whatever was hunting her was getting closer.

She didn't want to take the risk.

Which meant she'd have to return to the nightmare.

In the nightmare, she'd survived having her chest torn to shreds and her organs ripped out by that... husk of a torso, and the torch, with its incredible regenerative powers, had been somewhere there as well.

The last thing she'd felt hunting her had been a gauntlet which dissolved things on contact.

Taylor didn't want to have to test whether she'd survive being killed _outside_ of the nightmare.

She felt her hand rest along the imaginary marks where the husk had dug into her flesh, and flinched. After that, the locker felt… well, not small, not by any means. But… less big than it had been.

If she had to choose between getting ripped to shreds again or being locked back in the locker? She'd probably choose being ripped to shreds – but it was close. Still, somehow having another, almost equally traumatic thing happened to her had mellowed it out somewhat. Now, instead of being horrified and grossed out from the disgusting thing she'd been trapped in with, she was just horrified in general.

She felt like she was about to break down into another fit of crying and screaming, just to try to vent, and get some of the horror out of her system. The impending sense of danger, crawling towards her didn't help.

Perhaps the psychiatric ward was the right place for her, after all.

She still hadn't seen her dad, but that was apparently because they needed to assess how mentally sound she was, and the fact that she might pose a risk to others. Something didn't feel right about that, but considering the gashes she'd apparently left in the arms of the doctor who'd been brave enough to sedate her she was willing to accept their precautions.

… She wanted a hug, or even just a friendly face to talk to. Just something to do to distract her. Instead, she sat silently with no comfort, forced to try to process all of the horrible things that had happened to her, from the locker, to her agonising run, to her _maiming_ , and to her _DEATH_.

Taylor shivered again, clutching her hand where the torch symbol had been engraved into her flesh. It was aching. It wanted to take her back. She didn't want to go.

She briefly considered cutting off her hand, but dismissed that. Partially because she logically knew it wouldn't stop the… _things_ , from coming for her. Mainly because of how impractical the removal of a limb would be while in a ward specifically for people who weren't of sound mind.

Taylor began to hear a faint noise, and looked around in confusion.

Nothing she could immediately see, but it sounded like bells were ringing. It was very faint, but it was there.

Another surge of pain radiated from her engraving, and she clutched her hand harder; her nails beginning to dig into her flesh, her eyes scrunched shut and her breathing unsteady.

The bells began to toll louder and louder. And image began to form in her mind, of a clock face from a clock tower laying shattered on the ground, in a sea of broken buildings.

A familiar group of broken buildings, with three passageways she recognised and a strange purplish fungus.

Taylor's eyes shot open wide, and she began to forcefully distance herself from the tug on her hand. It worked… slightly.

The bells were becoming deafening. She might have started to scream, but she wasn't sure.

The bells filled her ear, playing a simple, familiar melody that she'd once found calming.

Instead, it sent her spiralling into a further panic.

No… she didn't want to go back there. She wanted to stay, and keep going through her shitty life – scraping through the hell that was high school, and… doing whatever came after that. She didn't want to have to go back to that nightmare.

Why. WHY WAS TH̸̸I̧͟͝S͝ ̴̡̨͟H̡͏A̷̡̨P͏̷̕͝P͏̕͜͡E̵͟͠N҉̶̵͢͡I̶͏̀͠Ń͜͜͝҉G̷̷̛̀́!?

Ṱ̴̜̻̬̘h̦e̵̤̟͙̬̹͕̻ ͜t̨̯͉h̥̟i̯̞͚̫͖ṉ̩̲̜͢g̹͎̫s̥̠͙̲ ͢c̮̯̲͙͠ͅh̷̯͉̺a͕̗͜s̼͕͚̘̞̠i̯̩̞n̺̬͖̳͕̜͡g̺̘̙̜ ̢̗͈͇̬͎̯̺h̦̰̼̪̙́e̺͕̬ŕͅ ̙̦ha̟͚̲̞͕͇̘d͈̰̮̹̗ͅ ̵̠ca̛̖̳̣̭̺̟p̲̰͜i̢̗̠̹̩̠t̤aļ̯i̬̞̰̲̗ze̵̤d̫̙̱̜̝̱͟ ̜̗͙͇͈ò̺̻̰͉ͅń͇͖̠̠̮ ̵͕h̢̳͔̰e̸̪̖̱̤͍̱r̯͈̳͎͕̠͙ ̣͍͚d̬͔͈ͅi̪̫ͅͅst͙͕̱͝r͔a͚͖̦̤͍̳̫c͞t͠i͓̼͡o̮̜̮͙ń.̩̼͕̳̫̠ ͖̀T̢h̶e̜̰̲̭̤͇y̴͈͎̹̩ ̨̺͍̲͔ͅw̻̪̺̯eŕ͍͎̣̞͍̦ͅe̴̤͇̱͕̟ͅ ҉̹ͅn̶̫̥͙̬̯̥o̱ ͏͓̼̬̭͚l͓̯͉͙̝̩ͅọ̳̝̞n̥̘̯͟g͏̙͍̰͎̼e̢̦̟̳͔̹̜̝r̹̲̞̞̹̮͘ͅ ̵̳d͚͍͚̩͔̰͖i̼̠͈̖͉ś̘̬̖t̶̙̣̤̩a̤̹̹̤̙n͉̯̝̲t̥͎̤ ͎̤̗͚f̡̪i̧̭g͔̤̜̹̣͚͖u̧̝͉̬̻͖r̼͕̫̼͡ͅe̷͙̟̯s̳̜͔.͉̹̜̺̰̙̀ S̴̻͙̗̟̖̭̗he҉ͅ ͓̼̦͉̫̤c̰͞o̲͕͇̹u͉̯̥͘l̹̼͞ḍ̦ ̷͕̯̲̰fee̡̜l̻̰͇̳͉̘̫͞ t̵͎̯̠͖̜͈he̖̻ͅm͏̩,̞͍̦͕̗̟̠ ̫o̡̼h̴͉̙̣̘͕͍̺ ̦̲̳̣̼͙̣s̰̫͖͉̰͝o͏̳͕̬̺̯͚ ̮̩̹c̛̫̪̯͉̤͖̩l̞͔̹̣͇̯os̗̬͉e ̲t͉̦o ̭̯̳ẖ̘̬ḛ̹̞̯͔r͇̱͕̻͇͙ ̵͓-̘͎̦̻͚̤̭͜ ̭T̵͇͍̲̥͇̣ͅO͡Ơ̫͙̪̱ c͞lͅo̴͖̩̭s̜͔͘e̜̤̲̱͙̫̭͜!͎͎͝ ̦̮͎̱T͖̞̠he̪̟̞̟̥̖̲y̻͈̻̱̯͚̩ ̨̘̮̘͎ḙ̬r̯̞͚͕͞eͅ ̭̞̘͔p̱̟͉̝̫͈͟r̛͈͈̜a̩̫c̨̫͖̰t̳͇̗̪͍͞i̫̹̱c̼a̗̕l͉̩͚̣͙y̥͔̥̭̪ ͡i̛̱̪͈n̻̖̭̹ ͈͖͝t̗͇͖͇̯̯͚̕h҉̩̱̺̯̘ͅe͈͟ ̪̭̙̟ͅr͚͖̬ͅo̜͔̝͎o͇̤͞m̬̫̬̫!̻̪̙͙̝͡ ̷͖̗͚͇̼̝I͟f̫̳̠͎͇͘ ̥̜̫̘͢s̫͕̻h̡͕͖͙̩̘̠̜e͙͈ w̷̱͇̣̘͕̙a̡̞i̩̭ț̩e̳̩̹̩̦̻d͜ ͢a͕̻̜̜̝̘̘n̹͇̠̘̯̩͘y̵̥̥͔̥̮͈ ̦̘͙̟̺͟l͏͉̙̞̘̼͎̥o҉n̬̙̘g̹̩̟̮̘̭͔͘ ̬̤̠̳͜s͈̕h̛̘͖̦e̠̖͓̖̳ ̼̥̪w͓̝͔̟͎͇͍͜a̵s͔ͅ ͎̘̰͔̪̙s͕̰̝̮̼u̧̜rę̣̰̝ ̦̟̩͡ͅt͈h҉e̙͔y̝̙͉̹͚̪ ͉w̷̺̟̖̜o͏̼͖͎̣ṷ̢͖͉̣̳̻̭l̤̱͕̕d̴̗̺͓ ̬̠̹̦̤̥͞ͅg̪̖̝̯̱e̹͈̣̭͚̬t̴̘ ̟̳̘̪̹͓̜h̥̮͍̥̯ͅe̮̞̰̼̯͠r̻̹̤̲͈̝,̦ ̱a̰̱̖ͅņ̣̟d͎̲̤̦̳ ̲͎͓̩̻͇s͚̟h̸̪͚̖͚̳̖e̯̞̖̺ ̡̳͙h̰̟͘a̼̼͚̹d̯͓ ͕̗̭͈͕͜n͖͇͍̳̦̮̠o̹͙̱̤̙͕ͅ ̠͍̠̣͙͘ͅi̷̠̦̗̦d̯̹͇̯̟̫e̗͓͎̬͜a͚͎̝ ̱w̯͇͖h̜͍̪͍̪͍̼a͞t̗͔̮̻̯ ̩͉͉͓͔̙͎͞f̩̖̫̝͇͙́òr̘̺̪͈͘m͚̤̼͈ t̴͖̩̖he̲͔y̯͇̦̙̙̕ ̩̞̩͔̕w̠͝o͓͚̠͖̰u̖l͏̖͍̪̲d͓̗͔̟̼ ͎͈̰̝̠͙͡t̪̮a̪̣͚k̵̮̬͕͈e҉̭͖̲͍̭͈ ̤̩̜̘͙-͙̦͖̘ ̼̠̗̘́ͅt҉̗̱̖͚̰̦͎he̥ ̯̭͇͎̯̭f̨̱̼̳̳͚̮̼a͍̼̥̹͚̞c͓̭̩ṯ͕̘̗ ̠̘͓̙͠s͙͕͍̭̲͚h̰̹̮͚͍̦̹e̫̣'d̶̰̬̲͇̹ ̴͍ș̜͍̩̥͚̬́o̝̻̳̩m̨̬̯e͔̺̝̩̦h͉̬̟͇͚̙o̱̤̦w̢͎̱͕̠͕ ̪͓̱̝́s̨̥̠̪̙̹͕u͈̻͚r̪̬̩̟̭̪v̮̥̲̼̦͈͝i̤̥͔̘v̩̯̣̱̬͉̕ͅḛ̛͚͙͍d͉͕̩͇͡ ̣̀t͈͎̀h̝̼̭̝̬̠e̻̠̲̥ ̝̹f̱̬i̧͉̹r̰̕s̬͉̻̬͇͕t̵͉͇̘̳̩ ̩̯̀ẃ̘a̺s̫̜̘̞̘̹̹ ͍̭̹͚̪̻͞a̤̖͚̼͉ͅ ̻̠̗͘m͍̞͇i̴̻r͓͘a͈͈͍̥c͈l̼͉͍̣̻̦̠͟e̷̠̟̬͈̠̲ͅ!̶̮̳

There was a dull silence, cutting off all the pain, and one, final, bell toll finishing the simple melody she had constructed. Taylor's breath stopped. The silence continued for a moment as she lay motionless, afraid even moving might invite the unknown. Whatever was hunting her was nearby.

She heard something move – but she hadn't heard anyone enter her room… so it had to be present.

She felt a firm tug on her midsection, as finally, without any other options, she let herself be pulled back into the nightmare.

* * *

There was a surge of sudden darkness, and an enormous pressure began to weight down on her back. Taylor struggled to a stand, and the feelings faded, light slowly filtering in and revealing her surroundings.

She bit back a sob, and forced the fear from her mind, focusing solely on the calming warmth radiating from her hand. It was fading rapidly, but she used it to steady herself, as much as she could.

Crying wasn't going to accomplish anything. She was stuck here. Last time, she had died… but now she knew the corpse wasn't a corpse, so she would avoid it, and try out one of the other routes.

If that didn't work, she'd try to find a weapon of some kind, and see if it could be hurt, **o** r properly killed.

Perhaps she would've felt bad about thinking that, but the thing had torn her to shreds and was an abomination against nature.

Taylor breathed out, and thought about the routes she could take.

She decided to start with what she thought was the dead end; either she'd be proven wrong, or she'd be finished very quickly.

Sadly, her first impression was… mostly accurate. She could see where the pathway would link up to other things, had it not been mostly collapsed. The only intact part contained an incredibly whole gate. A locked gate. One that looked too spiky to climb over, and a quick test of its strength ensured her that the gate wouldn't be breaking any time soon.

Taylor could see a very unusual keyhole, but she had no key, so it was irrelevant. Still, she made a mental note that if she found any 'L' shaped keys, they were probably for the gate… would it still be breaking and entering?

She forced that out of her mind, deciding she didn't care. Either it would be irrelevant, or she'd get to it if she found the correct key. Either way, a place as rundown and horrifically tainted as the one she was in wouldn't have any form of law enforcement. As far as she was aware, it didn't have any inhabitants at all; literally nothing had so much as shifted since her last visit.

Taylor once again forcefully repressed her last memories of the place, instead walking back to where she'd started, and trying to decide where to go from there.

There was another main road, the one with the living torso, and the hole in the side of a building.

She'd originally wanted to avoid going there as much as possible… but if corpses were a thing she'd have to encounter, getting used to them might be a good idea.

Taylor considered the fact, weighing her options, before deciding against it for the moment. She didn't feel quite ready for that yet… and for all she knew that body could be alive as well. The last thing she wanted to do was wake up some gigantic werewolf-minotaur hybrid thing.

Though it did seem to be holding something that looked somewhat sharp. Which meant either it would be very dangerous… something she'd find out when it stabbed her, or it had something that could serve as an impromptu weapon if she needed it. Hopefully. She couldn't tell much about the object, and she didn't want to get any closer unless she had to, not just because of the body.

It was less 'holding' the object, after all, and more 'had it impaled through its stomach'. She supposed that was just another reason for her to not go that route. It would be… messy, getting that separated from the body.

She didn't think she'd be able to… even if she might be able to leverage it free despite her lack of strength, tearing a weapon from a dead monstrosity was something her sanity couldn't handle just yet. She was barely handling being forced to exist in the place. It was strenuous, and she had no doubt her brief control over her emotions would be astoundingly easy to break.

The moment she felt truly safe, something she would never feel in the nightmarish town, she'd probably have another break down.

Was it bad that she was missing the psychiatric ward? It was warm in there… and safe.

It was less lonely, too. At least she knew there were people nearby.

Taylor shook her head and focused on the present.

Always on the present… that was where she had to be. She had to just keep moving.

She couldn't go back the way she'd first gone, on the far left of the… market, she decided to call it. The torso would seriously wound or kill her again; it was some kind of killing machine and had cut straight through her, while she was unarmed, scared, inexperienced at fighting and actually afraid of being injured.

Taylor bit into her cheek until she felt blood, forcing herself to ignore that.

If she had to go that way, she'd _have_ to take a weapon or she'd stand no chance. Even just one of the loose bricks would do; it hadn't been moving when she'd first seen it, so if it was stationary she could try to bludgeon it to death. Or if she felt up to it, she could… retrieve whatever the were-taur thing had.

She needed to think of a name for it, if she encountered anything else like it. For the moment, however, she didn't care.

That path wasn't viable for the moment, so she took her final option; what once might have been a major pathway, which was now barely wide enough for her due to the collapsed buildings and the growing, pulsating fungus. Thankfully, she was able to walk through with relatively little manoeuvring.

Unfortunately, as she was walking she accidentally bumped a piece of rubble with her foot.

It barely shifted; not surprising given the sheer weight of larger pieces of rubble that rested atop it. She couldn't even tell what it was rubble of, and not just due to the darkness; it was basically just plain stone.

But considering how precariously that rubble was balanced, even the minor shift was noteworthy.

After all, the rocks were still rippling. Slowly, but with a concerning noise.

Taylor began making her way back out of the path as quickly as she could. That was the wrong decision. The moment she turned around, she was faced with a steadily advancing wall of rock, which was the origin of the noise.

There was no way rocks could naturally move like that. It was literally forming a moving wall.

A very fast moving wall, forcibly shifting rocks aside or grinding them underfoot.

Taylor didn't have a chance to finish turning back around.

She felt her back leg be ground up first, torn to shreds beneath the sharp rocks.

* * *

When she stopped screaming, she was glad she had died only having experienced losing her leg that way.

Taylor took a shuddering breath as her eyes snapped open.

Much to her horror, she was still in the nightmare.

She'd remembered, slightly, waking up screaming and then having something jabbed into her shoulder.

It must've been a tranquiliser, because between then and now was a blank for her. The only thing she remembered was the same burning feeling in her palm she'd felt the last time her mark had dragged her back into the hellish other world.

But that didn't matter what mattered was she was stuck again, and had to try to get out, and it seemed death was her only way back to the normal world. And while that had sent her to safety twice, she still didn't want to bet her life on it. It might not work if she killed herself… it might stop working in general, so she couldn't rely on that.

Even if she was internally certain that death was meaningless, she planned to be as careful as she could.

If she'd thought having her chest torn open, having her leg… and body, ground to dust, was worse.

She mentally shoved the thoughts aside. No, she had to keep moving, so she considered her options.

The second path wasn't collapsed. That caught her off guard, and surprised her. But that didn't matter, because she'd set it off so easily the previous time; she could only assume it would be set off just as easily the second, and there was no way she would make it all the way through without bumping something.

Likewise, she wasn't going through a solid metal gate any time soon.

So her options were a pathway which she knew lead to a hideous corpse-monster, which she'd established as very lethal, quick, and strong despite its stature, or a ruined building with a literal corpse hanging through the only entrance.

Taylor felt a wave of revulsion run through her, and supressed the urge to vomit.

She decided to go towards the house. Not to enter it, though… the corpse still had something in it that looked a lot like a weapon. There was no way for her to get into the building without literally walking on the corpse, due to its sheer size, and she refused to do that. But… pulling something sharp out of its body… she might be up for it.

And considering she was planning to use said sharp thing to kill _another_ corpse, the dead – she would _have_ to get used to seeing them. She was sure of that. Despite how horrifying it was, the only pathways out of the hellish market contained a death trap, a locked door, a monster, or a corpse.

She would have to toughen up sooner or later. And the sooner she toughened up, the sooner she'd be able to not die in a horrific fashion.

Despite her mental resolution, her breathing, and her legs, still shook as Taylor slowly made her way towards the partially collapsed wall into one of the buildings. Officially the last route for her to see. Whether she decided to go in or not, she would have to commit to one path or the other eventually.

So far… death was the only thing that let her leave. But she also felt, deep down, that if she accomplished the mission that had been given to the Taylor Hebert native to that world? She would be free.

She had literally nothing to trust in, if not her instincts. So far whenever she'd been sure about something to do with the nightmare… she'd been right. Even if she had no way to prove she was.

She took a moment to look over herself. All of her wounds were once again healed, and her jacket was once more in pristine condition.

Taylor thought for a moment. She knew the torch was the source of that mending, but… did that make her a cape? She was regularly travelling to another dimension, albeit against her will, and she was literally coming back from the dead in pristine condition.

If that was her power, she had the shittiest power ever. Not in terms of usefulness, but rather because she didn't want to use that, and never wanted to have to visit the hell-scape again.

Though when she thought about it, there were apparently a lot of capes in similar situations. A few notable Case-53's sprung to mind, people whose powers had warped them, taken all of their memories, and usually taken any chance of a normal life.

Maybe that's what her power was doing.

If it meant forgetting the horrific wounds she'd been experiencing, Taylor would probably have to consider accepting said amnesia.

It wasn't like she had many positive memories anyway. Her life was shit, she had no friends, her dad was broke and constantly at work, she was tormented by someone she'd once thought of as a sister, and she'd accidentally killed her own mother.

Taylor snapped herself from her thoughts, and looked down as she finally came within arm's reach of the body.

It hadn't been far away… she'd been walking rather hesitantly.

Up close, the corpse was even worse.

The first thing to hit her was the smell. If she'd thought the rotten, decaying flesh had been bad from a distance, that was a drop to an ocean when compared to how bad it was up close.

Then there was the fact that the pulsing fungus was what was decaying the corpse, rather than maggots or flies.

It was incredibly creepy and sickening, but Taylor wasn't sure if she'd find maggots any less so.

The final horrors came from the fact that the mino-wolf wasn't entirely whole. Multiple chunks of its body were missing, and in other parts the skin – and fur – had been torn clean off.

Taylor almost threw up again, but barely stopped herself. Instead, she forced herself to tunnel vision on the weapon impaled into the creature's chest.

Up close, she could tell with even more certainty that it was a weapon. A fairly well made one, from what little she could both see and knew of weapons, but it was a weapon nonetheless, and with it, she might just be able to fight off the torso monster.

She reached down, and gripped it.

The handle was covered in blood, and protruded from the side of the body. The blade stuck out towards her. It would be hard to pull it free without having to turn the body.

Especially considering how much blood coated both the handle and the blade. It was rather impressive, considering the blade was only about a foot long. She hadn't realised you could literally stain metal with blood.

But despite its appearance, it was a comforting feeling in her hand. She felt far less vulnerable, far less exposed… even if she had no idea how to use it.

She applied a bit of force, and much to her surprise, the knife came free without any resistance. The beast must've been cut quite thoroughly for it to slide out so easily.

The moment it was free of the body, she stood back up and turned around.

Ignoring the rather horrid feeling of the blood beginning to drip onto her hand, Taylor began making her way steadily down the path she'd first taken.

Thankfully, despite the knife being slick with blood, she could grip it firmly – which was just as well, because she didn't have anywhere to wipe the blood off if it had become a problem. Except her jacket. But that was something she strongly didn't want to do.

It wasn't a long journey, in part because she was taking far more confident strides than she had the first time, partly because it wasn't even a hundred metres away from where she'd started.

When the mostly intact water fountain came into view, Taylor stopped, and looked around.

Sure enough, in a corner to her left she could just see the immolated husk's arm protruding. It must've hidden back there after it killed her the first time… or it could've been there the whole time. The rocks had reset when she'd died, maybe everything else did, too. Logic didn't have to apply to world filled with such inhuman beasts.

Taylor took a moment to consider how she could proceed, nervousness and anxiety welling up in her gut.

The knife was long, she'd probably be able to stab the protruding arm, but then the body would come at her.

From what little she could remember from her panicked last encounter, the husk hadn't been _too_ fast, but it was still fast. Her own reflexes weren't exactly top notch, and she'd literally never held a weapon before.

She wasn't even sure a weapon would work on it. The husk should by all rights already have been dead – it was missing its lower half, and that separation was neither clean nor covered. On top of that, it was almost skeletal. There was no way any living organism should be able to move with that little muscle.

But considering a floating gauntlet had attacked her before, she had no choice but to plan for the worst.

If it couldn't be hurt by a weapon, she could theoretically run back to the marketplace. If it followed her, she could run into the path with the falling rocks. Best case scenario, it got trapped or she made it through without triggering the rocks. Worst case, they hadn't killed her the first time. And that was the only place she could think of that she might be out of the equally lethal husk's reach.

So she would just have to hope her… acquiring the weapon hadn't been a waste.

She turned to one of the broken walls, keeping an eye on the arm. Unless it started moving, she'd take advantage of it laying there and give the knife a few practice swings.

It had a fair weight to it, she wouldn't be able to use it for long, but it wasn't heavy enough to slow her down too much, and she felt confident she'd be able to swing at a decent speed. It was also remarkably easy to hold onto, even though by rights the blood pouring from it should've rendered it slippery.

There was also once more interesting facet she discovered about the knife when she performed an experimental stab, and accidentally collided with the wall.

Or, rather, two interesting facets.

The first was that the knife was impossibly sharp, and carved straight through the wall with what felt like no resistance – once again making her very glad she wouldn't easily drop it.

Second, she wouldn't be using any more stabs any time soon, because a surge of blood had shot forwards from the knife and punched a massive hole in the wall, in time with her swing. She'd also felt herself weaken greatly, and was internally sure that the blood had come from _her_. Just one stab and she'd begun to feel lightly dizzy; passing out or dying from blood loss was something she very much didn't want, and not just because of how embarrassing that would be to her.

Why should the husk even bother fighting if she was going to kill herself for it, hey? It could just stay motionless and let her do the work.

She had a suspicion that it wasn't only stabs that would result in her blood loss. But she knew diagonal slashes were fine, so she'd have to stick to that. Going into her first fight dizzy from experimenting would give her even more of a disadvantage.

She already didn't know how to use or even hold her weapon, nor how to stand, though she'd heard that was rather important. She'd just have to slash wildly and hope for the best.

She really, really didn't want to have to do it, but Taylor forced her fears aside and stepped into the small, circular courtyard with the water fountain.

This was the only way she could go. She'd have to just tough it out.

Taylor closed the gap between herself and the husk slowly, with careful steps, and thankfully it didn't notice her despite the frankly absurd amount of noise her shoes were making against the cobbled streets.

The moment she was close enough, she slashed at the arm. It came clean off, and the husk let out a familiar screech that rattled her to the core, causing her to freeze up for just a moment.

In that moment, the husk tore its way out of the pile of rubble it had been lying under, seemingly unfazed by its now severed arm. It spun to face her, and began dragging itself towards her at an alarming rate.

Taylor stepped back and slashed downwards again, taking off a few of the husk's fingers, and again as she felt it grab her arm, taking off its hand at the elbow, her knife carving through the flesh and bone like it wasn't even there.

How it was still moving forward so quickly, she didn't know, but she felt its teeth clamp down on her foot, and the surge of pain almost caused her to topple. Instead, Taylor cried out and panicked, stabbing down right through the creature's head – and her own foot.

The creature let out a horrifying wheeze to accompany her shout of pain, and its jaw loosed, releasing all tension on her foot. She yanked the knife out, kicked the husk away even as a lance of white hot pain radiated from her foot, making her want to curl up into a ball and whimper.

Instead, she got ready to slash again, only for the husk to stop moving entirely, looking just as dead as it should.

She felt a surge of something course through her, but she was in too much pain to process what it was or why, instead whimpering on the ground, and trying desperately to fight back the tears cutting off her vision.


End file.
